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Mistress finally decided that she did indeed want the new bed. It will be delivered early next week.

Once it’s fully assembled, I’ll have to work on the larger under-bed drawer. It’s designed to be able to hold a moderate amount of clothing. It will need to be retrofitted to hold something else: me.

That’s a project that, thanks to my Y chromosome and my well outfitted workshop downstairs, shouldn’t be too challenging. Swap out the bottom for some 3/4″ plywood, reinforce all the corners with L-brackets, and install a generous quantity of low-profile wheels.

Mistress will also want some sort of way to lock it from the outside. Nothing fancy, since I won’t be able to reach it anyway. She’s also talked about some restraints in the drawer itself, but that’s probably an add-on for the future.

I’m actually fairly nervous about this. I do have some claustrophobia that kicks in sometimes. We haven’t really played that much with it. I’m a bit worried that I’ll have more trouble with that kind of panic now that I’ve fully transitioned from male to female. I’m just more emotionally volatile. One example is that I had to safeword on the severe bondage hood that I used to absolutely love to wear. It freaked me out.

The drawer itself is long enough to fit me (being about the length of the bed frame). There is also plenty of width — almost enough for two people. But the height is my biggest concern. Based on the dimensions, I think my nose will just barely rub as the drawer is opened and closed, unless I turn my head. Plus it will be dark.

Mistress talks fondly of “being able to just put me in the drawer for the night”. I hope I can live up to her expectations. This is really going to stretch me in some edgy ways.

She continues to talk to her close friend “Tom” about all sorts of intimate details of my surgery and my new genitals. She also mentions occasionally about the “openness in our relationship”, hinting strongly that we’d entertain the idea of having sex with others. And she’s talking seriously about us making a trip to see him early next year.

I’m still not healed well enough to get back to my spanking backlog. Mistress has given me some 200 swat penalties over the last month for transgressions. But I also was forgiven 150 last week for some substantial housework. I think my current outstanding total is 868. I’m trying hard to be a good girl!

Our relationship is back of firm ground. This gender transition has really stressed her out at times. But we are returning to some normality in our daily lives. And that makes a huge difference for her. I’m pretty sure now that our relationship will survive long-term, which utterly thrills me! When she and I are good, my universe is right and joyful. And right now, I’m so grateful to be living in that.

About two weeks ago I went into a hospital in Pennsylvania, went to sleep with a penis and testicles, and woke up four hours later with them gone — replaced by a vagina, clitoris and labia. My GRS surgeon (one of the best in the country) did a great job.

It’s really done! To read more details, see my other (non-kinky) blog that focuses on being transexual: BloomingTime here on WordPress.com.

Mistress and I won’t be doing much BDSM play now. I’ve got a lot of healing to do. Six weeks off work will help. But it’s hard for me to not be doing things. I’m forcing myself to stay in bed a lot and rest as much as possible.

Mistress gave me some extra (postponed) punishments recently. I got 200 extra spankings for lifting some luggage that was over my 5 pound post-op weight restrictions. Another 200 for lifting something else yesterday (dumb). And I beat her at cribbage a few days ago, and she tacked on another 200. I was down to only 48 spanks left from before. Now it’s up to 648. Sigh.

Our former roommate and kinkling has move out. Let’s just say he didn’t play well with our pets. He also has some mental illness challenges that we just were not up to handling ourselves. This leaves us with less help around the house than we were planning. With me recovering from surgery, that leaves more for Mistress to do — and that’s just not right.

My wife/Mistress continues to miss the company of males. I think this issue will be pretty important to the development of our relationship in the future. I’m just not sure exactly how yet. She talks a lot about the importance of her friend “Tom”, and her adult son, in her life right now.

Tom lives in Florida. She talks with him by phone multiple times a day. Tom has met me recently, he’s a nice guy. My wife has told Tom quite a lot about our personal lives. Although Tom is married, he travels a lot, and we strongly suspect that he gets some action on the side at times.

So, my wife continues to drop hints to him. And she’s told me straight out that she’s like to have sex with him and make me watch. She’s pondering plans for us to go visit him. She’s also talked with him about going sightseeing with him, while I’m left in the company of some of Tom’s large, muscular and horny African American friends. No, I’m not joking.

Please feel free to ask questions about our relationship, my surgery or transition, or anything. I love to read your comments, and would be happy to respond.

Things are still going well! I love being in the world as a woman now, instead of as a man. And unlike most married couples to find themselves wrestling with this issue (one partner being transexual), we are still going strong together. I think being openminded kinksters really helps.

I’m still eating out of my dog dishes, sometime 3 times a day. It’s so automatic now. My latest need for punishment has related to being tardy. My wife/mistress does not appreciate departing to an event with me when we are behind schedule. The last time we were 3 minutes late to meet some friends for dinner, she tacked on a penalty 5 minutes because I hurried through a yellow light (her opinion was that I ran a red light). That turned into a paddling with her favorite thick leather paddle, non-stop for the full eight minutes.

And she still has her appreciation for men of color. She rarely misses an opportunity to notice or comment on them, or even flirt with them. Humiliating me remains another past-time, making comments about my sexual inadequacy over the years as a man, and how my penis will be so much better off as a vagina anyway. There is little need for male chastity devices any more, as the female hormones have left tiny barely functional in that regard.

I can’t remember the last time she permitted me an orgasm. Several times per month, though, she instructs me to orally pleasure her, which I happily do. We both really enjoy that, and as a bonus she gets to ignore how horny it leaves me.

Our relationship is doing amazingly well, considering all we’ve been through lately. In many ways we feel closer than ever. And I’m extremely grateful for that. The next (and perhaps final) challenge for us will be the Gender Confirming Surgery (also known as SRS or GRS). She’s worried about infections and other problems. I’m still very excited to have my body fully reflect how I see myself now in the world – as a woman.

As time goes on, I’m less and less comfortable with my male genitals. They are inconvenient, as I cannot dress how I want sometimes. They are annoying, since tucking them snugly so they don’t bulge obviously under my clothes is a hassle. They hurt sometimes, as the atrophy fights with the occasional erection attempt. And mostly they no longer feel appropriate at all. I was in the shower with my wife, feeling horny, and instead of being able to rub my pussy against her thigh this damn semi-flaccid hunk of skin was flopping around. It honestly felt very wrong.

Electrolysis is a pain in the ass. I just completed my 7th trip to Dallas TX where they again removed all the active-growth hairs from my face. Eleven hours of technician time zapping and pulling those hairs one-by-one. Don’t mind the anesthetic injections — by needle into the face. Yeah, it really sucks. But most transitioning friends I know do it locally, without anesthetic, a half-hour or hour at a time. Which reminds me, I have to start that process in my genital area. It’s a strong recommendation prior to surgery down there. Apparently it’s quite painful too. So of course my wife wants to be with me during those procedures.

On the up side, I wore the cutest outfit to work yesterday! And heels, which I love. Actually, I only meant to do a brief post, as I need to be getting ready for work. Dress, jewelry, makeup, hair, and out the door.

This post isn’t about orgasms, it’s about punishment. And it’s not that I enjoy punishment, it’s that Mistress enjoys punishing me.

A few days ago she caught me eating dinner from a regular bowl, not my dog dish (which she lovingly calls my “trough”). I honestly forgot, but this is like the third time in a few months. And she’s tired of me “forgetting” Her Rules.

Instead of our usual red leather paddle, she had out three other severe spanking implements. One is essentially a hardwood board with a rubber tire tread on one side. That packs a wallop. Things proceeded as at other times.

As she started the spanking she told me to explain what I had done wrong. In detail. And to clarify why it was wrong, and how she can be sure it won’t happen again. By this time my ass is quite pink and hurting.

She continues, though, explaining why this incident upsets her. And she talks about how she doesn’t see how she can be sure that I’ll remember next time. All the while she is wailing away on my now painful behind with the big paddle or the wooden hairbrush or the strop. I’m now yelling into the mattress hoping the neighbors don’t hear.

The intensity increases as she proceeds. She explains that she wants to see some bruises this time, and wants to be sure that when I sit tomorrow (as I do all day at work) I remember.

When she decides that’s enough (about 20 minutes later), she rubs some icy-hot type “ointment” (as she calls it) on my red and painful ass. This time she told me to go stand in a corner with my nose against the wall while she watched TV. She left me there another 15 minutes while the cream burned my behind. She turned the volume up to “drown out my whimpering”.

After I came home from work she asked how my behind was. I said “fine”, since that was the truth. And the frown she showed made clear her disappointment. Next time it will be even harder.

I blew my change to be released from chastity for an orgasm yesterday. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Saturday morning we woke up and were laying in bed chatting. My wife/Mistress/keyholder told me she’d like to unlock me to ensure that tiny (her name for my cock) “gets a good bath”. By this she means a good (usually harsh) scrubbing.

The prior evening we had watched Margaret Cho’s “Beautiful” comedy stand-up performance (excerpt here). Margaret is awesome, we love her (but Cho newbies may want to check out her previous tours first). Anyway, part of her act was going off about stinky dick. So I jumped to the conclusion that my wife was concerned about that with me. Certainly that was true with the CB-3000, but I can keep the JailBird nice and clean. In addition, putting the PA lock back on is a bit of a hassle.

So, keeping my defensiveness in check, I commented back to my wife that I am very able to keep it clean, and that “a bath for tiny” really isn’t necessary. She dropped it for a short while, then brought it up again. And again I said we didn’t need to do that. You can probably guess what she said next. I didn’t see it coming – go ahead, call me an idiot.

“Well, I was going to release you today and let you have an orgasm. My plan was to get into the shower with you and let you soap up my naked body. Then I was going to wash tiny until he squirted. But twice now you argued with me about unlocking you, so you can just forget about it now.”

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t say that, but I thought it really loud. What a dunce.

And that was that. It’s Sunday afternoon now, and she’s not said another word about it. But that wasn’t my only screwup that day. Oh no.

In my last post I mentioned that I wanted to offer my newly hairless body to Mistress this weekend in a special way. She approved a “surprise” scene for Saturday afternoon. When the time came, I gave her a note and asked her to give me 1/2 hour to get set up, then she could come up to the bedroom.

The note outlined that I would be tied to the bed and gagged, naked (but in chastity of course). My cage would be covered to hide my useless genitals, but in a way she could rub herself on it for her pleasure if she wanted to. The rest of my body was slick with massage oil, and the note suggested she could feel free to arouse herself by rubbing her body on mine. I thought she’d enjoy a bondage/lesbian/sensually erotic scene.

Wrong.

She came into the bedroom as I was finishing up with the wrist cuffs. She said “Here, let me help” and she tightened them both and locked them to the corner bed restraints. Her enthusiasm at securing me surprised me. My ankles were already tied out. I had a ball gag in and she tightened the blindfold. “Comfy?” she asked rhetorically. I nodded. Then she left, going downstairs to her office for what I estimated was about 1/2 hour.

At this point I had no idea what was going on. I laid there bound, gagged and naked, unable to do anything but await her return. Part of me wondered if this was a way for her to reinforce the objectification – leaving me as a toy to be used if and when she wanted. Another part of me was worried that I had messed up.

When she eventually returned, I got my answer. “So, according to your note, you had a particular scene in mind, right?” I nodded weakly, concerned about where this was headed. “Well, what if I’m not interested in that? And by the way: I’m not. So let’s review your note.” She read the note to me, word for word. “It’s good you put the part in about me doing whatever I want to you, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

With that she sat on the bed next to me. The next 10 minutes were torture, consisting of her flicking my nipples painfully and tickling me relentlessly. I was yelling and begging for her to stop, thrashing around in my 4-point restraint. After that she took our leather paddle and reddened the inside of my thighs. Then some more tickling and belly-button stimulation which I also greatly dislike.

She tortured me as I yelled and thrashed, and I heard her laughing. Yes, she was really, truly enjoying the hell out of this. I was in tears from the torment. She said “You know I’m a sadist, right?” I nodded, as we both know that’s one of the reasons I wanted to marry her. She continued this torture for a little while longer.

But I wasn’t prepared for the next part. Behind the blindfold my eyes went wide as she asked “Where are my needles?” OMG. Just after New Years I gave her a present: scores of new hypodermic and acupuncture needles, along with alcohol wipes (this post). Through the ball gag I directed her to a dresser drawer. I could tell from her voice that she was serious.

I felt her rub a wipe on some skin on my leg, and then heard her opening one of the needle packages. “I haven’t had a chance to use these yet. And you said I can do what I want, didn’t you?” All I could do was whimper, torn between not wanting to be her pin cushion and wanting so much to sincerely please her.

“Stay still, don’t move,” she said. I felt her pinch the skin on my leg. I braced myself. I really hate needles, and she knows this. I felt the needle enter my skin as she pushed it through, and I bit hard into the rubber gag as I screamed. “That’s one,” she said, “I think we’ll start with five.” My whimpering protests were unintelligible through the gag.

I bit down hard as she swabbed, pinched and poked me four more times. Then she sat back and caressed around the areas. “Don’t thrash around now, we don’t want one of those needles poking into your testicles now, do we?” In my mind I saw a needle dangerously close to my tight scrotum poking through my chastity cage. Must … be …. still.

Seeing my blindfold had slipped, she adjusted it back into position and said “Keep this in place. If it moves again, that will be five more needles.” Ok, I think I can do that.

“Now I’m horny,” she said, and she climbed on top of me, still fully clothed. “Do not move around, I don’t want any of those needles poking me. Understand?” I nodded, truly scared for me and for her. She ground her crotch against my chest and worked herself up to an orgasm. In doing so, her chest was in my face and it moved the blindfold.

As she carefully got off of me, she noticed the blindfold was out of place again. “What did I tell you?! That means five more needles.” I whimpered and whined and begged. “Do you want more than five?” That shut me up, briefly anyway.

I felt more alcohol swabbing, followed by more skin pinching and poking. My teeth dug into the gag each time as I screamed during and cried afterwards. After the last one she laid down next to me and caressed my face, feeling my tears. I panted and calmed down, feeling very loved by her attention and grateful that the torture seemed over.

“Would you like to see?” she asked? “I’ll release one hand and you can get the rest.” She did so, and soon I sat up and removed the blindfold. I expected to see ten needles still in me. But there were none. There was just one place where two little blood spots indicated where one needle had been. Nine of the “needles” were mindfucks. I cried.

I unfastened my ankles and she covered me with a soft throw. We cuddled together, and I sobbed with my head on her chest and in her arms. I really am needlephobic, and this was an intense scene for me. Her aftercare was perfect, and eventually I settled down. We talked and processed things, we both learned some things about the other, and our intimacy deepened once again.

Overall it was an incredible scene. But she made clear that she wants to be in charge of them. Me defining the scene was not a good move on my part. I thought I was offering something new to her, but I see her point now and my error. In my quest to make her happy, I can do better.

Twice yesterday she sent me out crossdressed for errands. One to pick up dinner, and later to pick up a DVD. Today she send me out grocery shopping for ingredients for a new recipe she wanted to try. And yesterday as usual I was in my housekeeping dress for several hours cleaning floors, vacuuming, doing dishes, and other chores at home.

We have a local kink/BDSM party coming up in 2 weeks. Last time she put me and my newly received Prince Albert piercing on display (prior post here). I’m wondering if she will keep me chaste until then. That would be a full month. I’ve daydreamed about being milked at the party. I fully expect to be displayed again so people can see my cage and PA-lock.

But after this weekend I’ve learned my lesson about suggesting scenes or activities. The moral of this story? Mistress is in charge.

Yesterday she found another reason for a serious ass-paddling session. It was a financial mixup on my part, actually a potentially major issue. Everything was fine, but it might have been a disaster. She was not happy that I had slipped up on this vital detail.

When I got home from work she told me to set out her spanking implements in our bedroom and wait for her. I arranged the paddles, canes, crops, and other items for her convenience. She arrived and simply pointed me towards our bed. I lowered my pants, laid on the bed, and waited for her to get to business.

She asked me to explain why I needed to be punished. I told her, and she repeated some things back to me, reinforcing her points with hard swats to my bare bottom. I thought ahead enough this time to position a pillow so I could yell, scream and cry into it and not bother her so much with my wussy noises. It was a good thing, because this session was a little more intense than the last one.

This was my second ass beating this week, and she made it clear that she expects better from me. This session included ten hard swats with her favorite cane, which burned terribly. I think she used each implement for at least ten impacts. Afterwards she applied the icy/hot cream to my red ass herself. This increased the residual pain, and also left me smelling rather minty for hours.

Then she put a medium butt-plug in me. That might not have been so bad, but we had a meeting to attend. Between the meeting and driving, I spent over 2 hours sitting, pushing the plug uncomfortably deep, and squirming to find a comfortable sitting position. She was please to be able to torture me so effortlessly, and in public. The lube left my ass squishing as I walked, which felt humiliating. After 4 hours she allowed me to remove it.

At bedtime she had me rub lotion into her beautiful legs. I wasn’t allowed above her calf, as this was service, not sexual. Most every night I provide her a back rub to help her get to sleep. She loves foot rubs too. I hope someday soon she allows me to give her some sexual pleasure, but I know that she will tell me when she wants it, and I am not to beg.

Apparently I didn’t tighten the security screw enough when I put the JailBird together a few days ago. Today I noticed the screw had loosened. It’s not a major problem, as the cage stays together just fine even if the screw is loose. I just don’t want to lose it. It came with one spare security screw, but I don’t want to end up having to buy more screws. So tonight I’ll ask her to open the safe so I can use the keys to tighten it well.

Even if the screw came out, all that would happen is that the cage would separate from the base ring. I still can’t escape from the cage. The lock through my PA piercing keeps the end of my cock secured to the far end of the cage. So I can’t pull out, and I would still have no meaningful access to tiny.

I had some concerns that the larger base ring might change the wearability of the JailBird somehow. It certainly is looser at the base, but it’s not a problem at all. It’s still snug enough to support the weight of the cage. And as mentioned above, I can’t pull out anyway. Heck, the whole thing could slide down and the end of my cock would still be locked to the far end of the cage. The resizing was all about increasing the comfort for 24/7 use. That aspect appears to have been a complete success.

I had some suspicions that a guy at work might also be in chastity. I’d noticed him use a stall to urinate once or twice when urinals were available. But this week I observed him using a urinal, so probably not. I guess I used to stand once in a while when I was wearing my CB-3000. So I suppose anyone could possibly be locked up, and I’d be hard pressed to know.

Ok, I have a challenge for my readers. I’ve been thinking about ball-trap chastity devices, and I know that when I’m flaccid I could pull out the back of any of them. And it’s my theory and assertion that anyone could escape that way. Cocks can shrink up quite a bit, and I just don’t see how the geometry of these ball-trap units could maintain security.

So my challenge is this: has anyone seen a video demonstrating how a seriously flaccid cock could not escape from a ball-trap chastity device? If so, please post the link as a comment. I’ve read reports of some people claiming they can’t pull out of a CB-X000 device. But honestly, I don’t believe it. It’s my assertion that such devices, by themselves, cannot be considered secure. A guy can claim it, but a guy can lie.

Even my own JailBird, by itself, wouldn’t even come close to keeping me secure. Without the PA lock, my flaccid dick could easily slip out the back. Can anyone provide some video evidence that some men find these ball-trap devices to offer reasonable security? I suspect not.

I understand very well that not everyone wants or needs 100% secure chastity. It can be difficult and expensive to get to that point. Some people are really good with the honor system. But relying on that doesn’t really require a chastity device then, does it? My point here isn’t to make anyone feel bad – your kink is ok. My point is more for keyholders, to clarify the reality (as I see it).

I could easily have been cheating daily when I was wearing my CB-2000 and CB-3000. I didn’t, but my point is that I could have, and some men might very well do so and insist that it’s so secure they can’t.

I can also see the value in having a less severe way to transition from no chastity into some chastity. Maybe some folks aren’t ready for the real thing. I’ve never been there, if I could have gone straight into 100% secure lockup from the beginning, I’m sure I would have. The problem then was the cost. Today I’m pretty happy to have full security for under $500 (cage + PA lock).

It was the first time I had the JailBird on since we got it back from having the base ring resized. So far it feels fantastically comfortable (as far as male chastity goes, anyway). She seemed quite happy to have tiny (her name for my cock) secured back in the stainless steel cage. The separate Steelworxx lock through my PA piercing prevents pull-out.

She had some trouble with the fingerprint scanner on our new bio-safe where she now stores the chastity keys. She ended up reprogramming it, which required the emergency keys. Fortunately those keys were still with us and not in her son’s gun safe over an hour away. So one strike against this inexpensive bio-safe. Hopefully, if and when she wishes to unlock me, it will scan her finger properly and open.

The safe is now securely cabled to a shelving unit in our master bedroom closet. It’s not super high security, but there’s no way I’ll defeat that without her knowing. She appreciates how convenient the key safe is there, yet it is still well out of reach of our bed. Her fear of me opening the safe with her finger while she sleeps has been fully addressed.

Once the emergency keys are out of the house, there will be only two ways of getting out of chastity. One is for her to open the bio-safe using her fingerprint. The other is me breaking the emergency key box, which she would know about also (since she has custom decorated the emergency key box). In a true emergency, I’d be forgiven, of course.

However, based on our new written chastity agreement, any attempt by me to defeat chastity or otherwise cheat is cause for her to abandon chastity in our relationship – forever. So that’s another strong incentive for me to be good. However, I prefer not to even be tempted to pleasure myself, and the cage addresses that for both of us.

At this stage I like being locked up. Stay tuned to see if my attitude changes as the weeks and/or months add up without any release for me. I’ve actually missed being in my cage. Being out of commission for three weeks due to that nasty skin infection really sucked. But it seems fully healed now.

I feel safer having my genitals caged. There is a sense of relief knowing that I cannot escape due to the lock through my Prince Albert piercing. And returning to the humiliation of always having to sit to pee feels strangely welcome and appropriate too. It’s kind of hard to describe, but I’m back where I want/need to be.

We have yet to see if the resizing was fully successful. Last night Mistress did a “stress test”, stimulating my nipples as I groaned, bucked, and tried to get hard. While there was no pain, it also wasn’t as intense as a few other times where I was super aroused and really, really straining against the cage. That’s when it would seriously hurt (in a bad way), as the smaller base ring was too tight against the base of my engorged genital area. I’m sure we’ll have a “super stress test” soon enough.

Last night Mistress paddled my ass harder than she has in years. My transgression was small (leaving the dinner dishes unwashed, particularly my trough), but she used it as a “correctional opportunity”. I think she was trying to get me to cry, which almost happened. I certainly was yelling a lot. Afterwards she had me apply one of those hot/cold ointments which caused it to hurt even more. It was actually painful to sit, and was tender all through the next day at work.

My first counseling appointment regarding my gender identity issues went well yesterday. After one more appointment and some tests she will have an evaluation and recommendation for me. I’m still not sure where this is all leading. But I am getting clarity that I’m unhappy about not being able to express my feminine side more in my daily life. Limiting my crossdressing to just at home feels like I’m denying a very real part of myself. I’m in the closet; I just don’t know exactly what it’s all about yet.

One awesome development is that my wife is starting to bond with my feminine self. Although she is bisexual, my “ditzy blonde” persona, which has been most prevalent in my past crossdressing, has never appealed to her in a sexual or relationship way. Sure, I was fun and an easy target for humiliation, but not all that appealing as a partner.

However, as I’m expressing my female side more, she’s seeing a new part of me that she is enjoying, perhaps even falling in love with (those are her words). When my long hair is down, and I have my soft pink or lavender pajamas on, and we’re cuddling in bed, she’s comfortable with me as her lesbian lover. Wow. I can’t say how great it feels to have that part of me accepted and appreciated (rather than rejected).

I’ve updated my stats to reset the clock for this new block of time in chastity. Mistress has given me no sense at all about how long she will keep me locked up. She doesn’t seem interested in release schedules, or scorekeeping, or any more formal method of determining chastity duration. It’s all at her whim. I guess I don’t mind that. And I suppose that could change, especially if she got some ideas on-line.

Anyone want to guess how long this lockup will be for me? I’ll watch for your comments; thanks.